Page 45 of Fly to Fury
A few feet away, Lt. Rothilion poked at the mountain gruel with his spoon. He was one who had opted to keep his hardtack, gruel, and vegetables completely separate. “This appears dubious.”
“Better than starving.” Fieran lifted a spoonful, blew on it, and held it out to Pip as if it were a glass he wanted to clink against hers.
She held up a spoonful as well. Then, the two of them popped the bites into their mouths at the same time.
A savory and meaty flavor burst across her tongue. Pleasantly salty. A hint sweet. She met Fieran’s gaze and spoke around her mouthful. “This is really good.”
“Um-hmm.” Fieran chewed, swallowed, and dug in for another bite.
Pip sliced off a piece of the hardtack along with the scoop of gruel. The biscuit had soaked up the sauce, turning it soft. The bread and gruel combo was even better than just gruel.
Lt. Rothilion shot the two of them a look, as if he didn’t believe their praise for the meal, before he tentatively took a bite. He didn’t grimace, exactly, but he didn’t spit out the gruel either.
Lije was scraping the edges of the pot, but he had just enough gruel for portions for himself, Merrik, and Murray.
As Lije left his station at the makeshift stove, Fieran set his plate aside and clapped. “Let’s give a cheer for Lije!”
Pip set down her own plate and clapped loudly as the flyboys around her cheered so raucously it nearly drowned out the noise of the continuing downpour.
And this was what made the Half-Breed Squadron special. Whether they were taking on the enemy or scrounging up a meal, they could accomplish anything when they pitched in together.
Chapter
Sixteen
“The airship is here.” One of the flyboys stuck his head into the hangar bay before he hurried toward the nearest door.
“Come on. We don’t want to miss the fanfare.” Pip set her wrench on her tool cart, swiped her hands on her overalls, and pushed to her feet.
Fieran matched her grin and together the two of them hurried across the hangar toward the large door. It had been partially closed to block some of the driving rain while a puddle formed on the cement floor before the open section.
Pip pressed against the door and peered around the edge, trying to stay as dry as possible.
Outside, the canvas of the squadron’s shelters sagged, heavy with the damp while the shielding branches of the elven grown trees hung low with the weight of their wet leaves.
The road between the hangar and the row of shelters was a muddy mess of ruts and puddles, some nearly a foot deep. At least it had been repaired enough that it was somewhatpassable between the hangar and the parts of the fort down below the bluff.
When she glanced along the length of the hangar, she spotted other flyboys, pilots, and mechanics also peering outward as much as they could without getting soaked by the driving rain, all of them trying to get the first glimpse of the new arrivals.
In the foothills beyond their rows of tents, a large airship drifted lower as it settled into one of the docks. Several smaller, swifter airships swarmed in the sky overhead, likely the escort still providing protection.
On the dock, various adjutants and aides held large black umbrellas over the military commanders in their dress uniforms and flashing medals.
Mak, Merrik, Lije, Pretty Face, and a handful of the other flyboys clustered in the doorway around her and Fieran. With so many people crowding the small opening, Pip found herself pressed against the metal door with the warmth of Fieran’s chest at her back.
Not that she found his close proximity at all distracting. She certainly didn’t have the urge to lean into him rather than the cold of the metal door. Nor breathe deeply to catch a whiff of his scent of basic military laundry soap and that minty, forest scent that might have been his shampoo. Nope, not at all.
So instead, she blurted out the first inane thing that came to mind. “I can’t believe we’ll be meeting someone famous.”
Fieran’s huffed laugh stirred her hair. “You’ve already met my dacha. And my Uncle Rharreth and Aunt Melantha, who are a king and queen.”
Pip smothered a snort. Fieran almost sounded offended that she hadn’t counted his family as the most famous people she’d met. She wiggled in the tight space to half-turnso that she could look up at Fieran while still keeping an eye on the bustle at the airship docks. “True. But there’s famous and then there’s…famous.”
She wasn’t explaining this correctly.
But Pretty Face was nodding almost sagely, as if he understood. “Fieran’s family is famous because they are important and have authority. But Tenian Daefiel is famous because he is a celebrity. The latter you ask for autographs. The former you quake in your boots and bow obsequiously.”
“Exactly!” Pip bumped Pretty Face’s shoulder with her fist.
